


Too Old For This Shit.

by Basingstoke



Category: Highlander: The Series, Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Crossover, Mpreg, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-15
Updated: 2010-01-15
Packaged: 2017-10-06 07:31:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Basingstoke/pseuds/Basingstoke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>McCoy has a terrifying journey through time!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Too Old For This Shit.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [amireal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/amireal/gifts).



> Thanks to Jacquez for the beta.

Transporters. They make him suspicious. If a man was meant to dissolve, he'd be air-soluble, McCoy thinks. But he's stuck in the transporter room, waiting for Kirk and Spock, and there's precious little else to look at.

He turns to the red-shirted, short-skirted crewman beside him. Damn; he knows it's his cultural prejudice showing, but it just never seems quite right, miniskirts on a man. "What's your name, Lieutenant?"

"MacLeod, sir."

McCoy nods. "Is that Scottish or Irish?"

"Scottish. Mac, not Mc."

McCoy points the tricorder at him. He always remembers people's insides better than their outsides. "Oh, you're the one who's six hundred years old."

"Aye, that's me."

"You don't look a day over three hundred and fifty."

"If you'd seen me at three hundred and fifty, you wouldn't say that, sir," MacLeod says with a slight smile.

The transporter room doors open. McCoy looks up from the tricorder ready to say "took you long enough" or maybe "we're not getting any younger here," but before he can decide, Kirk shoots MacLeod in the chest.

The man collapses backwards, stone dead, a wet red hole burned straight through his torso and into the machinery behind. Something explodes. McCoy dives behind the transporter controls and reaches for his phaser. He slides backwards, away from the sparking machinery, and stuns Jim. Lucky shot.

The door opens again. McCoy has his phaser in position already and stuns Spock as he comes through the door, not waiting for a word. Something else explodes. McCoy scrambles up onto the transporter pad and gets out his communicator. "McCoy to the bridge!" he yells as the sparks fly and the smoke rises.

Machinery crackles around him and then the transporter engages.

"Jehoshaphat!" he shouts as he reforms, still on the transporter pad, bleeding. He feels woozy.

"We've got you, Doctor," Nurse Chapel says. What a sight for sore eyes. She has a flash sealer in her hand and she's wearing... pajamas? But he just saw her. When did she put her pajamas on?

McCoy looks down. "What in tarnation happened to my legs?!" They're gone. Just plain gone.

"Bones!" Kirk leans over him. He's wearing pajamas too. "Look at you, right out of the academy!" He pinches McCoy's cheek. He looks older. So does Chapel, come to that.

"There was a transporter accident. You're in the future," Chapel says.

"Where are my legs?!"

"Back where you left them," Chapel says, winking. "There, I patched you up, and as soon as you get back, you can get them reattached. Don't worry. I remember that the surgery goes perfectly."

McCoy rubs his head. He doesn't trust his eyes. "Are you a *doctor*?" he asks Chapel.

"Sure am."

"But you're a *good* nurse. Where would I find someone to replace you?"

Chapel laughs. "Don't worry."

McCoy looks up. "Jim, are you pregnant?"

"About damn time you noticed! I think it suits me," Kirk says. "I'm glowing." He does a spin in the middle of the room, showing off his hugely round belly.

McCoy feels light-headed. And then, good God, his future self walks in with Spock.

His future self has been turned into a Vulcan. Pointy ears, straight hair, traditional Vulcan eyeshadow, and a stick up his ass. "This is a nightmare," McCoy says.

Spock raises an eyebrow. "You seem quite lucid, Doctor. We have prepared a counteragent to the venom that incapacitated Captain Kirk and myself in your present." He hands McCoy a hypospray and a cartridge of injections.

"All you have to do is hop down and inject Kirk and Spock before they revive from the stun," Future McCoy says. "They should recover fully."

"Right," McCoy says. "And what do I do to stop this living hell from coming true?"

"What are you talking about, Bones?" Kirk asks.

"Jim knocked up, I lost my favorite nurse, and I'm a Vulcan? What else, has booze been outlawed?"

"Well, yes, actually. They've perfected synthehol," Chapel says.

"What are you talking about, man? This is the happiest I've ever been!" And Future McCoy *touches his fingers to Spock's*.

McCoy is numb with horror. He can't speak.

"I have calibrated the necessary conditions for you return," Spock says, chilly as deep space. "Be ready with the hypospray. Counting down from three... two... one."

McCoy is vaporized again.

He reappears on the pad next to his legs. He clutches the hypospray, touches both severed legs for luck, and arm-crawls across the room to Kirk and Spock. He injects them both. And that's that, but what about--

Just then, MacLeod gasps and sits up. His chest shows pink and whole through the torn uniform. Right. That one is self-healing.

"What--Dr. McCoy?" MacLeod asks.

"Bring my legs," McCoy says.

MacLeod looks around, dazed.

"Get my legs and get me out of here before anything else explodes!"

"Legs." MacLeod snaps out of it and picks up McCoy's legs. He ducks around the hissing consoles and grabs McCoy by the hand, dragging him out into the corridor. "Are you--?"

"I'm fine," McCoy says. "Go get Spock and the Captain, they're stunned."

"Yes sir," he says, and pulls Kirk and Spock out of the room as help arrives.

*

Nurse (Nurse!) Chapel runs a tricorder over MacLeod's chest. "I'm fine, really," MacLeod says.

"You're a security officer; I believe the machine," Chapel says.

McCoy wiggles his toes. Kirk is fidgeting in the bed beside him, unhappy with the barrage of tests. McCoy, right now, is just happy about his toes.

"Interesting," Spock says from the other bed. "I surmise that the healing energy from Lt. MacLeod interfered with the damaged transporter. I only wish I had had such an unparalleled opportunity to see into the workings of time and space."

"Well, I wish I hadn't," McCoy says.

"What's the matter, Bones? Were you bald? Was *I* bald?"

"No and no."

"Was I dead?"

"No." He's not even looking at Jim. He's eyeballing Spock, that smug Vulcan face, those damnable pointy ears. He couldn't kiss that mug, surely? Well, he couldn't turn into a Vulcan, could he? Isn't Spock with Uhura anyway?

Just how far into the future had he gone?

He slumps back onto the bed. He'll feel better after a nice long nap and a nice big Scotch.

"Was Spock bald?" Jim asks.

"Shut up, Jim!" McCoy yells.

*

a few days later...

Someone is singing outside his office. McCoy opens the door and glares.

"Not my fault," Sulu says. "I told him it was the real thing." Chekov is hanging off his shoulder, flushed and happy, singing in Russian.

"Oh, for heaven's sake," Chapel says. She helps Sulu put him on the bed. "Pavel, you can't drink alcohol like it's synthehol!"

Synthehol! McCoy ducks back into his office and slams the door. Six years of medical school, he reminds himself. At least six years until the future comes.

End.


End file.
